


Endless

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies) RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A preserved moment.





	Endless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brittlelimbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlelimbs/gifts).



There’s a tearing, there’s a franticness. Names and places and places and planes and people and people. His head aches. The brisk evening air eases it, but not enough. Around him is the glade, the strange and wondrous beauty of nature as it sheds its summer coat, adorns itself in its shroud of orange and red and brown. It’s a holy moment, a sacred moment, the symbolic coming of Death. He stops a moment to kneel, to pay homage. He is struck by his own youngness, the terrifying encroachment of the Void. The fragrance of the fresh earth greets him, grounds him. Leaves crunch pleasantly beneath. Dampness seeps into the knees of his worn jeans. He knows someone could be staring, but he doesn’t care. The air presses close, almost a warm caress against his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of light. A firefly maybe?

“Ezra,” a voice calls out to him, muffled in the strange closedness of the glade. He turns and the image of a startled animal crosses his mind. For a moment he is a deer, light-footed, forest-dwelling, and this man is an outsider.

The man steps out from under the shade of a great oak. 

“Hey Colin,” Ezra says weakly. He gets up from the dirt, oddly self-conscious. Colin, (does he not know?) looks like he’s stepped out of a romance novel; maybe a Jane Austen. Colin’s white shirt hangs open, carelessly buttoned at the fourth and fifth buttons but no more. The saving grace is a dark jacket, unzipped, but at least pretending to shield him from the elements.

“What are you doing out here?” Colin asks him.

“Nothing,” Ezra says. His jeans are dirt-stained, and heat creeps up the back of his neck. He does not usually allow himself the indulgence of Shame, strives against it, but it’s here, wriggling up the back of his shirt like so many fire ants.

“Well obviously you’re not doing nothing,”

“I just wanted to Be, you know,” Ezra says. “After… all of that.” He makes a vague hand gesture, although he’s not sure if he means all the promoting he’s done recently or if he means the entirety of Existence, the terrible struggle of being alive, of consciousness.

“Seems a good place to do it. Sorry if I’ve interrupted,” Colin says. “If you’re in L.A. much longer, let’s catch up, yeah?” He turns to leave, presumably to continue his jog/hike (are those even hiking clothes?”) but Ezra realizes he has to stop him now. 

“You could,” he begins, and to his horror his voice betrays a desperation he so badly wants to hide. “You could join me. You know. Meditating. Nature… things…” he trails off. Usually he’s more verbose, but there’s been a shift in their dynamic. Things are changing. The world is changing. They are standing in the literal seasonal personification of change.

Colin arches an extremely impressive eyebrow. 

“Looks a bit damp, wouldn’t you say?” Colin says, and there’s a bit of a glint that Ezra senses is teasing. He snatches up the affection like a starving man. 

“There are benches,” he says excitedly.

“There are indeed benches,” Colin acknowledges. 

They sit on one together, and Ezra feels his heartrate slow the moment they close their eyes. They sync their breathing. 

Time slows down, and Ezra feels the franticness drain out of him. It’s a physical sensation, in the sense that it echoes physics. He is the source and Colin is the sink. 

The world shifts around them, spinning relatively slowly, but still inconceivably fast. They stand still. Unaging, unchanging. Just for this moment.


End file.
